"Oh." That single word spoke volumes. "And your mother? Would she have also considered it a waste of time?"
He hoped the darkness concealed his expression, but he could hear the pain creep into his voice. "She was different than my father. Before their divorce she tried not to show her emotions, since he'd use any sign of weakness against her. She changed later on."
"How old were you when they broke up?"
"Eight. Nine, maybe. Joanne was two years older."
"And how did your mother change, afterward?"
"She softened, became more openly affectionate. Of course, it's hard to say if she was like that all the time. I can only base it on the time I saw her."
"What do you mean?" Annalise straightened, and he could feel her attempting to penetrate the darkness in order to read his expression. "Didn't your mother have custody of you?"
"No, only Joanne. My father took me."
He caught Annalise's soft gasp. "They split you up?"
"Yes." A wintry coldness settled over him. With that one single decision, every scrap of love and kindness had been removed from his life. He still felt the loss to this day. "My mother never spoke to me about that time, but Joanne once explained that our father threatened to take both of us and prevent our mother from ever seeing us again if she didn't agree to his terms."
A strobe of brilliance flashed across the screen, allowing him to see that Annalise was visibly shaken. "Could he have done that?"
"Considering I didn't see either my mother or my sister again until I turned thirteen, I'd say not only could he, but he did precisely that."
"How … ?" Her voice thickened, betraying her emotional reaction to his response. "Why … ?" She shook her head, unable to formulate the questions she clearly wanted to ask.
Jack leaned his head back against the couch cushion and stared blindly at the old Star Trek movie that was Isabella's current favorite. "How? With some of the most powerful lawyers money could buy. Why? Because he was-and is-a total bastard who used me to hit out at my mother."
"But you did finally get to see her," Annalise said on a note of urgency.
A smile of satisfaction tugged at his mouth. "That I did."
"I assume he finally relented?" she asked tentatively.
"Not a chance in hell. The summer I turned thirteen, Dad took off overseas on an extended honeymoon with his latest trophy wife. I was supposed to go to camp. Instead, I hitchhiked to Colorado, where my mother was living with her second husband."
"Dear God, Jack!" She reached for him, her hand clutching his arm. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Anything could have happened to you."
He regarded her with a hint of amusement. "That's what my mother said. It was worth it, though. I stayed with them for most of that summer." A summer filled with magic and hope. A summer unlike anything he'd experienced before or since. A summer that had ended in the death of dreams. "Until my father found out, that is. But those couple of months were quite eye-opening."
"In what way?"
His brows tugged together reflecting a hint of the bewilderment he'd experienced during that time period. "They were all so happy. They laughed almost all the time. And when they fought … " He struggled for the right words to explain. "I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did."
"You mean when they fought, you weren't worried that they were on the verge of divorce." Her hand shifted, rubbing his arm in a soothing motion. He doubted she was even conscious of her actions. "They were never nasty toward each other."
"Exactly. They were-" he reflected on it for a moment "-casual. As though the way they interacted-the laughter, the tears, the squabbling, the open affection-was a normal, everyday occurrence."
"It probably was." She tilted her head to one side, sending a swath of curls tumbling across her shoulder. "How often did you get to visit after that?"
"I didn't. My disobedience that summer earned me a trip to military school. I didn't see Joanne again until I turned eighteen and my father no longer had any say in where I went or who I saw. Unfortunately, my mother and her husband managed to drive themselves off an icy mountainside a few months beforehand."
"Oh, Jack! How awful." He caught the betraying glitter of tears and felt something shift inside him, something deep and powerful. Something he wanted to protect himself from because it came from a wellspring of emotions he preferred to deny. "What happened to Joanne? Did she move back to Charleston to live with you and your father?"
"No. She was in college by then and flat out refused to have anything to do with our father."
"Or you?" she dared to ask.
He refused to acknowledge the hit. For years he'd believed just that, until Joanne had finally set him straight. But by then he'd found a way to insulate himself from the sort of emotional pain that came from sentiment and familial attachment.
"We managed to revive our relationship, despite my father." His mouth twisted. "Hell, Jo even found it in her heart to forgive him, not that he ever believed he required forgiveness. Ironically, Dad helped her find the lawyer who handled Isabella's adoption." Jack stood then, careful not to wake his niece, while putting an unmistakable period to the conversation. Annalise's hand fell away, leaving behind coldness where once there was warmth. "Time I put our little one to bed. I'll be back in a minute."
He took his time settling his niece, needing those handful of minutes to rebuild his barriers. He'd told Annalise far more than he'd shared with any other woman, opening parts of himself that he'd sealed away for almost two full decades. He didn't ordinarily let people in, didn't dare. That sort of closeness often became messy, risked creating emotions like the ones that had sent his parents' relationship spiraling into vicious arguments and acts of revenge.
He'd made up his mind at a very young age to avoid marriage at all costs. Even when he'd witnessed firsthand his mother's loving relationship with her second husband, he still hadn't trusted that their marriage was anything other than pure dumb luck. The union he contemplated with Annalise wouldn't involve an emotional commitment. When they married it would be carefully scripted with neat, tidy, legal boundaries that specified every aspect of their wedded "bliss" right down to the date of their future divorce. As for any potential romantic entanglements …
That would be determined by contract, as well. He had no objection if she chose to share his bed. But she would enter the affair with her eyes wide open and all the cards on the table. He wouldn't trick her with claims of affection. Theirs would be a mating of body and intellect. A sensible blending rather than an emotional one.
Satisfied that he'd fully regained his self-control, he turned and found Annalise watching him from the doorway. And that was when he realized he had no self-control when it came to this woman.
None whatsoever.
Five
J ack had no memory of closing the door to Isabella's room. No memory of striding toward Annalise. No memory of backing her against the wall. But from the instant his mouth found hers, it was like a recorder flicked on, burning every tantalizing moment into the pathways of his brain.
He was overwhelmed by the distinctive fragrance of her skin and driven insane by the low, soft moan that reverberated in her throat. The heat of her hands and lips and flesh burned like wildfire, sweeping straight through to the frozen core of him and melting away walls of ice that he'd believed too tall and thick to ever be breached.
"I've tried, Annalise," he said between quick, biting kisses. "I've tried to keep my hands off you. How many times have I promised I would? And yet … "